


christmas cookies

by realfakedoors



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Baking, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21988840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realfakedoors/pseuds/realfakedoors
Summary: "I’m not about to let you waste these perfectly good ingredients by makingchocolate chip cookiesforChristmas. You’ve forced my hand.”That made Connie laugh, shaking her head. “You know what? Fine. I could use the help—”“I’mnothelping you,” Lars said sharply. “I’m preventing a catastrophe from unfolding. Not doing anything would be criminal negligence and I’m protecting my own ass, got it?”or, it's Christmas time, Connie just wanted to make some cookies for her family, and Lars' sensitive baking sensibilities are downrightoffended. Platonic friendship shenanigans ensue! (NOT a shipfic.)
Relationships: Lars Barriga & Connie Maheswaran
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65
Collections: The Cluster's Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2019





	christmas cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [br42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/br42/gifts).



Connie, for the record, wasn’t _angry_.

Annoyed? Perhaps. 

Irritable? Slightly.

Resigned?

“Don’t apologize, I know you can’t help it,” she sighed, giving Steven another quick hug and squeezing his hands before he stepped onto the warp pad. “I get it, I really do!”

And yes, Connie really did _get_ _it_. This had been happening for years now.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Steven said for the dozenth time, backing up to stand with the original trio of Crystal Gems, with a nervous glance to Pearl who was tapping her foot. “I texted everyone who was going to come to let them know to hold off—we’ll hurry back but if you want to go home, I'm sure Lion is around!”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, smiling and waving him off. “Right. Go, go, before White does something too terrifying.”

“Okay—okay! Bye!”

There was a diaphanous ring, timed perfectly with the light _swish_ of warp energy that filled the Beach House, and then Steven and the Gems were gone.

And now she was alone. In his house, which still felt weird even after all they’d been through together. If anything, in more recent years, it was just unusual to find the place empty—so many new Gems would come and go that the house felt sometimes more like a stop along the highway on a long road trip than it did a home.

That said, it had regained some of its charm with the passage of the years since Bismuth’s remodeling—the increased foot traffic certainly helped in that respect. There were plenty of patch jobs that had to be done on the wood finishes, broken tables, chairs, walls, lamps—come to think of it, almost everything in this place had been broken and repaired or replaced at one point or another, hadn’t it?

Shaking her head, a fond smile pulled at the corner of Connie’s lips as she walked over to the couch and sat down beside a napping Cat Steven. “Well, I guess it’ll just be me and you tonight, huh? How’s that for the First Little Homeworld Great Holiday Cookie Bake-Off? The uhh… FLHGHCB… Fluhguhcub… you know what? We’ll workshop it.”

Connie considered herself a fairly average baker, and a below average cook—with her Mom’s irregular hours and her Dad being barred from ever being within ten-feet of an open flame, the Maheshwarans didn’t exactly have a bustling kitchen. She could survive on her own, but she wasn’t going to be winning any competitions either.

Approaching the counter now, securing the yellow and white polka-dotted apron Pearl had laid out for her around her waist, Connie frowned at the preparations. She loved the Gems and Steven and all of their capacity for giving—but good god, what were they _thinking?_

There was enough butter to sink a trawler! There’s no way there could even be enough bowls to handle all of the ingredients setting out on the counter, just waiting to be mixed together by Gems trying their hand at baking, and Christmas, for the first time. The mess they would have made was unthinkable, and suddenly her cotton, simple apron felt entirely underqualified for such a task. She still wanted to make cookies for her parents and grandparents that were visiting, but the sheer volume of raw ingredients available was more than a little daunting.

“Guess I’ll just start with a recipe…” At that point, Connie was talking to herself more than she was humoring Cat Steven as her only company, but it effectively filled the silence so she proceeded. “Pearl’s gotta have a book for Christmas cookies here, right?”

Humming, Connie took up a spatula in her hand for lack of something to hold, and stood on the wrap-around seat that butted up to the window of the Beach House. She perused the shelves with her lips thinned. She knew that Pearl had a whole trove of recipe books for Steven’s sake, but since they reorganized some things it was harder for her to pick it out on the shelves.

So close to the shoreline, her eye was inevitably drawn to the window and the ocean beyond. Sea foam mixed with falling snow to create a stain of white trailing along the coast, patches of uneven snowfall gathering in the sands. Connie loved the sort of strangeness that came with mixing the scenic wonderland of winter with the steady ebb and flow of the ocean; life doesn’t truly standstill as it might in a polaroid of Christmas snowfall, but neither does it have to feel only as impermanent as the tides.

She breathed in deeply, letting a renewed spirit fill her lungs, and on the exhale she— 

_”Hey, Steven, sorry I’m late, my phone died so— **AHHH WHAT THE HECK!** ”_

—whipped around in midair, spatula at the ready.

“Oh.” Connie blinked, dropping her stance. Once again, her instincts had been perhaps just a _tad_ too keen. “Oh—oh, no I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” 

Standing over a pink gangle of groaning limbs, having sufficiently been knocked flat by her preemptive strike, Connie tossed aside the spatula she’d substituted as her sword and knelt to help right the situation.

“Be a nice guy, they said… help out Steven, they said…” huffed the unmistakable voice of Lars, rolling onto his back and sitting up, ignoring Connie’s offer to help him stand. He craned his head back, yelling up the stairs, “Getting my ass whooped by a sixteen-year old wasn’t part of what I agreed to, you twerp!”

“He’s not here, Lars,” she sighed, standing up and willing herself not to feel the twist of guilt in her stomach for knocking him flat on his back. Connie liked to think that she’d gotten better over the years, but she’d been unsuspecting and _did he really have to be so loud when got here?_

“What do you mean, ‘he’s not here’?! I came because he specifically said he needed _my_ help!”

“He said he texted everyone to tell them it was postponed—” 

“My phone died,” Lars grumbled. “I came all the way out here and closed up the bakery just for this?!”

Feeling a little defensive, Connie threw up her hands as she turned back towards the kitchen, her earlier task of recovering a cookbook forgotten. 

“Well, _I’m sorry_. A new vein of gem wasn’t supposed to emerge until next week but they’re coming out early and he and the Gems _had_ to be there. Because White Diamond still hasn’t learned how to treat other lifeforms with _basic decency_ , it’s suddenly _his_ problem to run off and solve and—gah.” She pressed the palm of her hand into her forehead, eyes closed tight. _Deep breath._

_In for three. Out for three._

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

Lars didn’t say anything for several seconds, hands buried in his pockets as he approached the counter.

“It’s, uh, all good. Not like I can actually get _that_ hurt, right?” He chuckled, and Connie smiled uncertainly towards him. “That sucks that he left you here alone. Don’t you usually go on these missions with him or something?”

“Usually, yeah, but they’re all sort of scrambling to make accommodations for the new gems since this was unscheduled, and I have to be home in a few hours. It was just one of those things where the timing wouldn’t work out.”

“Ah, gotcha. Well… uh… if you need help finding Lion so you can get home, I can try to get him. He always answers when I call anymore.”

Connie frowned. She liked to think that she and Lion got on better than any of the others—it was sort of one of those private victories, that _she_ was the one who connected with Lion most of all, but there was some rather conspicuous pink evidence that was contrary to the fact standing before her.

“No, that’s okay. I still wanted to make these cookies. Well, make _some_ cookies. No way I’m gonna bake for an entire army’s worth like Pearl had clearly planned.” Lars snorted, and Connie grinned a little. “I’m leaving to visit family tomorrow morning and I wanted to bring them some of these.”

Lars surveyed the kitchen, nodding. “Makes sense. What’re you gonna make?”

“Uh… cookies?” Connie repeated, raising a brow.

“Sheesh, do I have to spell it out for you? What _kind_ of cookies?”

She wrinkled her nose at the derisive comment, considering if she should even dignify him with a response.

With time, Connie had gotten a little more comfortable around Lars, but it was rare to ever spend time with him without Steven around, and as a result, Steven was usually the object of his antagonism. 

Sometimes Stevonnie, but never Connie.

It was oddly… refreshing? She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, glancing towards the bookshelf.

“I dunno. Probably… chocolate chip? I can do chocolate chip.”

“...Weird choice, but okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘weird’? Chocolate chip cookies are, like, _the_ most popular kind of cookie.”

“Well, maybe in a general sense, yeah. But they’re not exactly _Christmas_ cookies. That’d be like, bringing sweet potato casserole to an Easter celebration. You can totally do it, but just, like— _why_?”

Amused and a little annoyed, Connie just rolled her eyes. “Thanks for your valued input, _Lars_. If you must know, it’s because I can _do_ chocolate chip and they’ll be quick. I just wanna finish this and go home since Steven’s whole baking party thing is over.”

“Alright, that settles it,” Lars turned on his heel and walked towards the kitchen counter, taking Steven’s lion patterned apron and slinging it around his neck. “We’ve got supplies enough for spritz, sugar, thumbprint… those fruit are probably for biscotti, that’s good, we can work with that. Shortbread, maybe some almond tassies—oh, definitely gingerbread—”

“Hey, whoa, I didn’t say I needed your help!” Connie began, confused as Lars started moving things around the counter and setting them in different piles.

Barely looking her way, Lars shot right back, “That’s true, but I’m not about to let you waste these perfectly good ingredients by making _chocolate chip_ cookies for _Christmas_. You’ve forced my hand.”

That made her laugh, shaking her head. “You know what? Fine. I could use the help—”

“I’m _not_ helping you,” Lars said sharply. “I’m preventing a catastrophe from unfolding. Not doing anything would be criminal negligence and I’m protecting my own ass, got it?”

“Pfft—alright, whatever you say. I can probably get home sooner this way.”

* * *

Connie did not get home sooner that way.

It was about 19:30 when they really got started on the baking after planning out all the varieties Lars felt like would be feasible with their supplies, and they _did not stop_ until every cookie was made.

A dozen cookies per sheet, and thirty two trays of cookies later—

“Oh my god it’s _three AM!_ ” Connie gasped as she moved the last of the gingerbread folk from their decoration station to one of those cheap cookie tins that somehow just appeared around this time of year. “How—when?! My mom didn’t even call me? Oh god, where’s Lion?”

“It’s your own fault,” Lars supplied helpfully as he stretched out his back. “When you smacked that bag of flour out of the air instead of _catching it_ , it covered all the clocks—”

“How is that _my_ fault? Who _throws_ a bag of flour?!”

“Why wouldn’t you _catch it?!_ ”

“ _Why wouldn’t you warn me?!”_

“ ** _You’re_** _supposed to have the super-honed reflexes, I don’t know, I thought you had it! **”**_

For a pregnant pause, the two glared at each other, and Connie had half a mind to smack him just for being so stubborn all the time, but then Lars sputtered a laugh.

His composure crumbled and he doubled over, grabbing his sides, and Connie wasn’t much better—she was ransacked by giggles that shook her whole frame as she sat back on the couch. They looked a complete mess—flour in their hair and patterning their faces, Connie had sprinkles stuck to her eyebrow and Lars had gotten sick of running out of counter space and started to shove dirty utensils into his hair, citing that they were Steven’s problem to sort out later. 

“Oh my god. Did we really just bake almost 400 cookies?” Connie wiped a stray tear as she returned to her spot on the couch beside Cat Steven, who had remained unphased during the hours-long bake-a-thon. He peaked its eye open and sniffed Connie’s fingers, licking the skin with its rough tongue.

“No, we kicked ass is what we did,” Lars said as he pulled off his apron and tried to wipe off the white patches from his pink skin. “You did a hell of a job considering you didn’t know the difference between a beater and a whisk a few hours ago. Nice job, partner.”

Connie hummed, tired but satisfied. “Yeah, we did a pretty good job, huh? I feel bad about the mess though…”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s always worth it when people end up trying the stuff you made,” tone surprisingly warm, Lars wore just the faintest smile as he looked at the mountain of tins containing the fruits—or, well, confections—of their labor. “Plus this is Steven’s house, let him clean it up.” 

“You know that’s not a very considerate thing to do,” she shook her head, but checked the time again. “But I think I might have to, if I don’t get home soon I’ll be lucky if I survive through the holiday. Aren’t your parents worried about you?”

Lars cupped his hands together and yelled out the front door. “ _Aye, Lion! Wherever you are, we need you!”_

Once that was done, he crossed his arms and stood near the staircase, surveying the mess they’d made of Steven’s kitchen. “My parents don’t need to worry anymore, not in the same way that they used to—but that’s probably not what you mean. They’re not home this year. Philippines, Mom’s side, travel, _yada yada_. Not interested in seeing my distant relatives and explaining being pink and magical and dead.”

That took her by surprise. “But… you’re always going to be pink? You can’t just avoid them, right?”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “ _Lola_ isn’t going to live for long. Maybe I’ll try to get in touch with my cousins sometime after, but I think it would be simpler for her to just think I’m a normal college kid doin’ normal college things. Not hanging out with the girlfriend of a magical gem prince or whatever of an alien species at three in the morning baking four hundred cookies.”

Unable to help herself, Connie snorted a small laugh. “In a weird way, I can relate to that. My parents have come a long way to being understanding of me wanting to be an interstellar diplomat someday, but it’s not really easy to get to the subject with the rest of my family. Steven’s only ever met my parents, and I don’t know how to even scratch the surface of explaining what _he’s_ going to be doing for a living.”

“What, isn’t it every family’s dream that their kid will marry a teacher-doctor-half-human hybrid?”

“Shut up,” Connie laughed, a little louder, and Cat Steven let out a tiny _mewl_ while yawning. “Where is Lion… It’s so late, ugh.”

“He’s coming,” Lars said, gaze narrowing towards the door. “I can tell. It’s weird. I bet this is what twin telepathy would feel like. Well, maybe not _twins,_ but you know what I mean.”

“Like siblings intuition?” Connie suggested. “I don’t have any siblings, so I wouldn’t know, not really.”

“Oh. Same.”

They lulled into a semi-awkward silence after that. Connie considered telling Lars could head home if he wanted, but if he and Lion really did have some magical connection anymore it might be best if he stayed.

Clearing her throat, Connie tried to make some light small talk. “I can’t believe time got away from us so fast… my mom is going to kill me.”

“Being dead isn’t so bad.”

_Well, so much for light._

“Lars!” she gasped. “That’s so fucked up!”

There was an almost echoing silence, and Connie covered her mouth with a sharp inhale. Lars’ eyes widened as he stared at her, genuinely shocked. 

Connie’s mind spun in a sudden panic, did she just—without even realizing—

“Holy shit, Maheshwaran, you’re officially _cool_.”

“Cussing doesn’t make you cool, Lars! Oh my god. I really did just spend the last eight hours with you, didn’t I?”

“See, it’s not the act of _saying_ fuck that makes you cool.” Lars held up a single finger as if he was giving a college lecture. “It’s the act of _not giving a fuck—_ that’s what makes you cool.” 

“When did you start knowing how to be cool, anyway? I thought Sadie and the other guys were cool?”

“Ouch. See, that’s what I mean. Connie of eight hours ago would have been concerned about my feelings.” Lars threw on his jacket again, but this time he sat down on the Cat Steven’s other side and idly scratched behind his ears. “The Connie of right now? Brutal.”

On the porch outside, Lion leapt into view, coming down presumably from some altitude of the house. Maybe he’d been snoozing next to the washer and dryer or something. They both looked up at his arrival, and Connie let out a breath of relief as she started to slip on her shoes and gather up the tins of cookies she’d set aside for her family.

“I don’t know about _brutal,_ but, thanks, I guess? I do appreciate all the help with the cookies. It was… fun, just hanging out.”

Lars rolled his eyes. “I did the world a service by not letting you make chocolate chip cookies. I love a classic too, but that shit, for Christmas?”

He visibly shivered, and Connie couldn’t help but think he was being just a _tad_ dramatic.

“Alright, alright, _bye_ Lars. I’ll be sure to let my family know it was all thanks to _you_ that they’re getting a variety of cookies. Happy?”

“Good enough,” he snickered, shooting her a two fingered salute as she walked out to meet Lion on the porch. “Merry Christmas, Maheshwaran.”

“You too.” She hesitated for a moment, about to throw herself aside Lion’s back, and turned around. “And Lars?”

“Hm?”

Connie bit the inside of her cheek, considering if it would be too much to say, but she swallowed her trepidation and decided to just go for it.

“Sometimes things work out in ways you wouldn’t expect… so if it were me, I’d call your _lola_. You might not know if this is the last Christmas you get to hear her voice… and I think she’d be proud of who you’ve become.”

He sighed, but Connie could tell he was smiling, 

“...I’ll think about it.”


End file.
